


Bad at These Kinds of Things

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks
Summary: Shy.





	Bad at These Kinds of Things

They meet through friends. Matt knows Edd, Edd is best friends with Tord since the diaper days, Matt invites Tom to one of their game nights, and Tom finds himself tongue tied next to the stranger with the interesting accent and his long straw-colored hair.

That is all Tord is at first. Interesting. Tom is, as his middle school teachers used to say ever so nicely, socially inept.

He finds himself blanking as to what conversation to make with Tord, finds himself stuttering to answer questions, finds himself honestly just wanting to look at Tord and puzzle him out. He likes a lot of thinks about Tord almost instantly. He likes that his hair is long enough to tie back into a ponytail. Likes his smile and gentle words. Likes the way his eyes crinkle when he finds something Edd says funny, which is quite often. Likes the hints of stubble he can see on his chin.

Most of all he likes how Tord talks. He likes his stories, his interests, his jokes. The lilt to his voice as he delivers a punchline, and the twitch of his lips that give away his mirth as he tries to play something deadpan. 

Tom finds himself smiling quietly into his cards and then he realizes he has a chance to win, so thoughts of Tord fade and he plays his hands, watching what everyone draws and running the odds in his head, crossing his fingers that Tord doesn’t go out before him and then with a thrum of excitement he puts down his hand and wins the game, much to the groans of disappointment from Edd and Matt and an appraising look from Tord.

Numbers are exchanged. Tom doesn’t text Tord because he is too anxious to. Would it be awkward to text him the same day, same week, same month?

Tom doesn’t know and he worries over the question a bit more than is probably healthy as he goes into work, comes home, plays his guitar, drives Matt to a doctors appointment.

It maybe should have struck him as a bit funny the way his heart thrummed when he got a text from the number. That’s how he ends up at anime night with Edd and Tord. Matt decided to skip, anime being as he liked to call it, “One of those weird things Tord jerked it to.”

Tom goes anyway, not because he is particularly a fan of anime himself but because he … well… he doesn’t really know why he goes. But he does and Tord is there in a wifebeater and sweatpants and he has a bit more stubble on his face and Tom stands there awkwardly staring for a minute before he remembers himself.

“Hi Tord,” he says, and he hopes it is just him that can hear the small quake to his voice.

“Hey, come on in, Edd isn’t here yet but that’s him you know, late for everything,” Tord says, moving aside to let Tom in. The apartment is small but well kept. The smell of popcorn greets him as he enters.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of anime, didn’t seem like you were the type,” Tord said as they sat down on the couch. His hair is this nice honeyed color, especially the wisps of it that stray out to catch the edge of the light.

“I’ve seen a bit of it, mostly because of Edd,” Tom said.

“Oh? Which ones?” Tord says.

From there their conversation spitballs, as the one Tom names sets them on a conversation of breaking down the themes, the characters, the tropes. Tord nods excitedly as Tom gives his interpretation of a particular character. Tom finds his stomach feeling like it’s full of butterflies as they talk, his excitement and animation on the topic growing until the door opens and Edd walks in on Tom in the middle of acting out his favorite scene in the anime. 

Edd full out belly laughs at the sight and Tom reddens as he realizes how carried away he had gotten, the hot creep of shame prickling on his cheeks until Tord gets up alongside him and exaggeratedly performs his ultimate move on Edd, further reducing his friend to tears.

Tom’s embarrassment abates a bit as Tord throws him a quick look and winks at him.

From then on Tom finds talking to Tord easier. His heart leaps as he squinches his eyes shut to send Tord a text. Within seconds Tord is responding eagerly and Tom finds himself tapping away late into the night. He gets up, goes to work, responds to a text from Tord. Makes dinner for him and Matt, chuckles at an image macro Tord sent. Preps his lunch for the next day all the while tapping back responses occasionally.

The raw feeling of anxiety he feels around Tord begins to dissipate as they grow closer, spend more time together, both with and without Edd. Tom finds himself smiling at things Tord said, or remembering the way Tord smiled, Tord, Tord, Tord.

 

It’s when he realizes he has been thinking about Tord in his wifebeater and wondering what he looked like with it off that Tom shoots bolt upright.

“Tom?” Matt asks from his position on the couch.

Tom feels his cheeks growing hot.

“You okay there?” Matt says looking at him worriedly.

“Hey Matt,” Tom says, trying to force his voice to stay even. “You ever wonder what people look like shirtless.”

“All the time,” Matt says. Tom looks at him, relief starting to creep back in.

“Then I take off my shirt and remind myself what a sculpted god I am,” Matt says, flashing Tom a pearly grin.

Tom wants to cram the heel of his hand into his eyes. Repeatedly. But before he can, Matt is scooting over into his personal space and leaning even closer in after that.

“But the question is, who do you want to see shirtless?” Matt said, eyes alight with mischief.

“It was a hypothetical,” Tom backpedals, averting his eyes.

Matt pokes his red cheek. “I don’t think so.”

Tom scoots away from him. “You cannot. Tell.” Matt opens his mouth. “Especially not Mark.” Matt closes it, looking petulant but expectant.

Tom sits in silence for a bit.

“Well?” Matt says impatiently.

“Tord.”

“Ha! Knew it, Edd owes me a soda. So when are you going to ask him out?”

“Ask him out?” Tom says thickly.

“Edd says Tord is thick as a brick and if he likes you it will be months, maybe even years before he figure it out,” Matt said, looking bemused.

“Months… years… I have to ask him?” Tom said. He could feel the old familiar pang of nervousness in his gut.

“God helps those who help themselves, and both of you seem helpless,” Matt sighed. “Just ask, if he says no, rejection is a normal part of life.”

“How do I even know if he-.”

“Edd. Edd knows. Yes.” Matt says, grin on his face. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

“I can’t,” Tom said, and it hurt to say those words because they were true.

Matt shrugged, “If that’s how you feel.” 

It was. They sat in silence for a while, Tom wallowing in his own misery. It really was that simple, wasn’t it? Just ask, and if rejection happened, it happened. It wasn’t that hard. But when he imagined walking up to Tord, trying to fit those words in his mouth, let alone say them out loud, his heart sank.

It wasn’t that simple.

He was told being shy was cute. It was endearing. Adorable. But for him it felt like a prison of fear and what ifs and cannots.

He still texts Tord, and they go out, and he tries his best to ignore his feelings, but ever since he put a name to them they’re harder and harder to ignore.

He likes Tord. Really likes him. The more he tries to ignore it the bigger it gets, crushing. It’s painful. Seeing Tord is painful. He stops texting him so much. Starts skipping out on hangouts. Leaves things on read more often than not.

It doesn’t really help, but he can’t imagine it getting more painful. He starts playing sad songs on his guitar. Maybe drinks more than he has in quite a while. Stops laundering his close enough. It is the dirty sock upon Matt’s pristine couch cover that rankles him into action.

“Alright, I know where this is going,” Matt says, looking at his friend lying forlorn on the couch. He pulls out his phone taps a quick message to Edd and then looks to Tom. “Go take a shower.”

“Why?” Tom groans.

“Because,” says Matt through a tight smile, “We are going out.”

Tom looks at Matt, whose smile is actually a lot closer to a glower now that he registers it, and gets to his feet to mope off to the shower, deciding it to be the path of least resistance.

They go out. Which means they go to a bar. Edd and Tord are there. Tom doesn’t bother meeting Tord’s eyes and attempts at conversation falter and die. Tord gets bored. Tord gets frustrated. Tord walks away. Tom hunches over his drink alone at the counter looking at the droplets beading together on the glass.

A half hour, maybe more passes before the melodic sound of Tord’s laugh catches him off guard.

He spots Tord across the bar talking to a man with shoulder length hair, a dimpled smile and a firm jawline that made Tom envious. He watched as the man punched Tord on the arm, laughing heartily as he did so and Tord laughed in turn.

His chest hurt.

He isn’t sure where Matt is but he is half way through his drink and about halfway ready to ask him to go home. That’s before he watches the other man sidle away from Tord up to a rather burly grizzled man, to give him a peck on the cheek and a playful smile.

Oh.

A lick of something stirs in Tom’s stomach. He squints at Tord and feels a couple things click into place and when he gets to his feet he feels a rush of invigoration flood him like he hadn’t felt since he last won a round of cards.

His hands are sweaty and when he gets up off the stool, he stumbles a bit. But he doesn’t agonize over the falter. He stands up. Keeps on.

One step after another he approaches Tord and in a steady voice he says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Tord looks at him curiously. “You would, would you?”

“Yeah,” Tom said, and maybe a bit of his assuredness is crumbling bit by bit, but he is resolute enough that he jerks his head over to his forsaken seat at the bar and turns his back to Tord without looking behind him.

He sits down and is a bit relieved to see Tord had followed.

Tom gets himself another vodka and Tord ends up with a glass of beer. 

“So….” Tord says slowly. “You’ve been distant.”

Tom looks at his vodka, runs his finger on the rim. 

“I am a bit slow to all this,” Tom says. “Took me a while to fit things together.”

Tord looked at him with a bit of concern tinging his expression. Tom’s stomach drops. It’s just like middle school, he is bunging this up, he is socially inept. Why did he let Matt get him out of the house again?

“You’re being a bit cryptic here, I can’t say I get all this.”

“I want coffee,” Tom blurts, face reddening.

“What now?” Tord says confusion increasing. Tom wants to enjoy how cute he looks when he furrows his brow in contemplation but the raw edge of panic is running him through the middle.

“I would like coffee… with you… someday… not today,” Tom says slowly, trying to keep himself from devolving completely into hyperventilating.

Tord stares at him incredulously for a long moment.

“I don’t read you.”

“I want a date,” the sentence at last, snaps out clean, crisp, and unheeded by stutters or hesitation. Honestly, Tom thinks it is someone else that said it initially. 

“With you,” he clarifies to Tord’s now intensely confused expression.

“Alright, you ignore me and barely talk to me for weeks and now this?” Tord said, brow creasing even deeper.

“I am not good at this,” Tom said hunching himself together. “But I do like you. My nerves just get in the way.”

Tord reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I can’t imagine this is the way I saw this night going.”

Tom looks down at the dirty bar floor miserably.

“But I can’t say I am disappointed.”

The misery lifts a little.

“I like you, but you don’t so much as send mixed signals as send no signals at all,” Tord said and he is letting out a chuckle of relief. “Or maybe I am just thick.”

“It’s both, you are both helpless,” Matt said, coming up behind them to startle them both. He put a hand on Tom’s shoulder and looked at Tord.

“Did he pop the question?”

Tord nodded.

“And?”

Tord said, “I would love to get coffee with you.”

Tord it turns out, is an inhuman monster who likes sugar and cream in his coffee and Tom glowers at his tainted cup in mock disgust. Season two of a rather popular anime by an indie studio was just announced and it consumes most of their conversation as Tord excitedly dominates the conversation with his hypotheticals on where the plot arcs are going to go and who the main characters new love interest is going to be.

He doesn’t even touch his disgusting coffee until it is cold and that is probably more endearing than it has a right to be.

 

When Tom finishes his cup Tord asks if he wants to go for a walk. The day outside is bright, it rained a bit in the early hours of the morning and the smell of the world is fresh, bright and clean. Tom feels Tord’s hand slip in his and a leap of nervous excitement in his stomach as they walk out the shop together.


End file.
